


He Doesn't Belong Down There

by oakfarmer



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barkeeper Haymitch, Coal Miner Peeta, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Love without the Reapings, always happens anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28395456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakfarmer/pseuds/oakfarmer
Summary: It’s not unheard of for a merchant’s third son to end up in the mines.But why did it have to be the baker’s third son?In a Panem without the Hunger Games, Peeta becomes a coal miner and someone isn’t happy about the Boy with the Bread spending his days underground.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 58
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

_He doesn’t belong down there._

The thought runs through Katniss’ mind once again. This time it was the end of day whistle echoing in the distance.

Each trigger ringing louder than the last.

Passing a group of men with dark hair and slumped shoulders. Each with a scuffed lunch pail in hand.

When she scurried past the bakery, full game bag at her side.

But the first was as she was ducking under the fence, the sun just beginning to change the night sky. The whispered thought came from a dandelion’s yellow flower.

_He doesn’t belong down there._

“Hey Sweetheart, give me a hand would ya?”

Haymitch struggles to lift a keg onto the counter. She jumps to his side and helps hoist it up.

“Where is your head at today?” His gruff question isn’t exactly unkind. If anything, the hint of genuine concern is more alarming than his typical jabs.

“Just tired.” It’s not a lie. Well, maybe the ‘just’ part.

Haymitch raises his eyebrow and grunts. Dragging his bum leg as he limps towards the waiting customer. 

“Out with it. Who’s the boy? I know it ain’t Hawthorne.” Ripper calls across the narrow space between their bar and her booth.

Katniss wonders how much of her own wares the older woman has been sampling throughout the day.

Perched on his usual barstool, Darius leans forward. “I’ve already told you, Everdeen. It would never work between us.”

Her glare doesn’t faze either of the two busybodies. Fortunately, Haymitch is in his own foul mood. He points at his business rival, “Maybe you should focus on your own customers instead of my barkeep’s love life.” 

Katniss cringes at his reference to her supposed love life.

“And you.” He now points at the red-haired peacekeeper. “Drinks cost double for flirts.”

“Worth it.” Darius takes a slow slurp of his beer. 

“Triple.” Haymitch is not playing any games today.

Darius fidgets his lips back and forth before blowing out a sharp puff of air. “Sorry, Everdeen. Too rich for my wallet.”

She and Haymitch share a nod. He’s the closest thing she’s had to a father figure these last seven years. The same explosion that gifted him that limp, stole her father’s life.

Her mother managed to keep it together long enough to treat the sole survivor from her dead husband’s crew.

Unable to return to work in the mines with his injuries, Haymitch survived the winter on the beer brews he’d been experimenting with that summer. Not drinking them, though he did and still does plenty of that. But setting up a stand at the Hob to sell his concoctions by the glass.

By late spring, whenever he had a few coins or grain to spare, he would drop off supplies at the Everdeen’s door. Payment not only for the healer, but for the friend who saved his life.

He started bringing the food inside when it became too hard to hide just how lost their mother was in her grief.

Katniss will never forget the day he stormed in, demanding to know where they keep the kettle. Every morning and night for a month, Haymitch diligently stirred a pinch of powder into their mother’s tea cup. Whatever mixture was in that apothecary pouch brought her back to them, one sip at a time. 

He was almost too late. Maybe he would have been if it hadn’t been for Peeta. The boy who took a beating to throw a starving girl burnt bread. 

The glass she’s been polishing is the cleanest one in the entire district.

She’s not sure why the idea that Peeta could end up anywhere other than town had never crossed her mind until a few days ago.

It’s rare, though not unheard of.

Most merchants only have two children. But if there is a third, especially too many sons, the mines are always an option. Or a threat.

Still, on the morning of graduation, when he’d congratulated her and slipped a hidden cookie into the bread bag. The news that it would be their last trade, since he’d be in the mines on Monday, had knocked the wind out of her.

His ‘guess I’ll see around’ and warm smile had done nothing to comfort her.

His deep laugh alerts her to his presence. It was hard to miss across the school yard and now seems to reverberate off the Hob’s metal walls.

The dusting of coal doesn’t stop his blonde hair from setting him apart from the rest of the group. All chatting and laughing at whatever he’s saying. Thom pats him on the back. Of course, he’s already fast friends with his entire crew. His entire crew, except maybe the one glowering in the back.

Gale breaks off from the rest of the miners and heads straight towards her.

“Hey Catnip, how were the lines this morning?” He greets her the same way he always does here. The routine began her first shift at Haymitch’s bar, after her 17th birthday. 

“Decent. Rory wanted to keep a fat hare but I made him trade it for coins from Darius,” Darius waves at Katniss’ mention of his name. “and I told him to keep a gristly possum instead.”

Gale nods. “Good. He needs to work on his valuations.” 

She wipes her rag across the counter. “Did everything go okay in the mines? Anything new?”

There is a pause before Gale answers. “You never ask about the mines.” 

“I’m making conversation.” The counter is really dirty today. 

Ripper leans to the side, the tall grumpy miner is clearly blocking her view. 

“Just got an ex merchant assigned to my crew that I have to babysit.” Gale grumbles. 

Katniss lowers her voice to avoid the extra ears. “But you’re watching him, making sure he’s safe?”

“Yea, that’s my job as Foreman. Making sure his mistakes don’t get any of my guys killed. Why?” His retort has an air of accusation she doesn’t like. 

“I’m making conversation.” She makes a mental note to remind him of today, the next time he complains they only ever talk about hunting.

“You said that.” Folding his arms over his chest, Gale clicks his jaw. “I’m heading home.”

He never stays long. If anything, he’s stayed a few more minutes with her extra questioning. 

Katniss keeps working on the spotless counter. “Okay. Tell Rory not to be late again tomorrow.” 

Gale groans his goodbye. They’ve been teaching Rory for over a year now, but without the threat of starvation, getting the 14 year old boy out of bed before dawn has proven to be the most challenging lesson. 

Her eyes find Peeta once again. Still across the Hob. Chatting with Greasy Sae, a bowl of today’s stew already in his hands. 

Sae laughs and reaches across her counter, giving him a pinch on the cheek. Looks like he’s won her over before he’s even finished his first meal of mystery meat soup.

He grins at the old woman but then he turns enough to catch Katniss watching him. 

She flits her gaze away too late. 

Busying herself with the glassware doesn't speed up the couple of minutes he takes. 

“Hi.” Peeta stands in front of her. His lopsided grin only highlights the smear of coal dust on his cheek. “Fancy running into you here.” 

“Can I help you?” Katniss taps her fingers on the bar. The indifference in her tone is betrayed by her body’s inability to hold still. 

His smile falls and she misses it instantly. “Are you mad at me?”

Yes. 

This isn’t where they talk. They talk during trades. On the steps of a back porch. Nothing needed to change. Whatever shop he ended up running, she would have brought her squirrels every morning. He’d tell her a quick story, she’d laugh and share an anecdote of her own. Then she’d carry on with the drudgery of her day. 

He’s the one who made rash, life-altering decisions. 

Now he wants to chat with her, as if he wasn’t underground when he should have been handing her bread. Saying ‘hi’ in the Hob, a place he’s never set a foot in before. At the rundown, shady bar she attempts to keep clean. 

The way his blue eyes implore for her answer, dissipates the bulk of her anger. Her words come out after a deep inhale. “You don’t belong down there, Peeta.” 

“Don’t belong.” He utters the phrase like he’s tasting the words on his tongue. “Well, as the third unwanted son, I never really belonged in the bakery either. Maybe I—-“

“You belong in town!” Her arm flails in the general direction of where he should be. 

Peeta lifts his chin. “It’s not like I had much choice.”

“I'm sure the butcher shop would disagree with that.” 

Peeta never told her he refused a betrothal agreement with Rooba’s perfectly pleasant daughter. She had to learn about it from Madge in hushed whispers during their graduation ceremony. 

If he’s surprised she knows about the rejected betrothal, he doesn’t show it. “Okay, you’re right. For the most part I’ve made my choice. And the mines are it.”

“It’s too dangerous down there!” She recoils realizing how loud she said that. Everyone here knows first hand just how true those words can be. 

He flinched at her outburst but now his eyebrows squeeze together, and a ghost of a smile mixes with the confusion. “Are….are you worried about me?”

Yes. 

Her silence doesn’t deter him. “I was placed on Gale’s crew. You of all people, know the kind of leader he is. And how seriously he takes the safety rules.”

She, ‘of all people’, has no idea what Gale is like in the mines. Katniss only has the woods to go on. And she wouldn't describe him as cautious out there. “He’s also the youngest foreman. Maybe you should be learning from someone with more experience.”

Peeta shrugs. “My dad always burned himself more than any of his sons. Familiarity can lead to complacency——“

“You gonna keep ogling the goods or are you gonna buy something, Boy?” Haymitch’s gruff voice interrupts. 

She turns to find not only Haymitch, but the entire row of regulars watching her. Darius’ especially wide grin is unsettling.

Peeta slides down a coin. Haymitch fills a glass and slides it down the bar. 

“Hey, you told me no more sliders.” The redhead peacekeeper gripes. 

Peeta takes a slow sip. 

His nose crinkles as he looks down at the foaming amber liquid. “My dad calls this liquid bread. So I guess you’re more of a baker now than me.” 

“It’s nothing like baking.” Katniss mutters. The boy with the bread calling her a baker is the most ridiculous thing she’s heard across this bar. And he’s not even drunk. 

His eyes don’t leave her face as he takes another long sip. 

Katniss is the first to look away. “Where are you staying?” Single men don’t have that many options in the Seam. 

“Oh, Rye and Delly are letting me stay at their place. In town.” Peeta laughs and wipes the foam off his lip. “But I’m definitely cramping their newly wed bliss, so I was going to hang out here....just, in the hob, for a while. I’m on the list for a bed in the bunkhouse but there’s a backlog. Should get one after toasting season.”

They both stare too long this time. 

“Could use some help, Sweetheart.”

Haymitch gestures to all the full chairs with no drinks. It seems orders have stopped because they’re too busy enjoying the show. Even the Goat man looks slightly amused. 

Peeta’s hand goes to the back of his neck. “Sorry to keep you. Have a goodnight.”

Darius scrapes the empty barstool next to him across the floor. “You haven’t even finished your beer. Take a seat. She might, but the rest of us don’t bite.”

To her chagrin, Peeta accepts the chair without hesitation. 

She and Haymitch swap places, so she doesn’t have to keep serving the distractions. Peeta nurses his one drink while the rogue peacekeeper regales him with stories of District 2. The same ones everyone else at the bar have already heard a dozen times. 

His easy laugh only encouraging Darius’ embellishments. 

When his glass is finally empty, Peeta gives her a small nod before standing to wander the Hob. She watches as he introduces himself to each stand’s keep. Offering a charming smile and a dusty handshake. 

She’d spent the morning imagining him looking lost. His wide eyes taking in the new surrounding with the foreboding they deserve. 

He doesn’t look lost at all. He looks as comfortable as she’s ever seen him. Maybe he could make himself fit in anywhere.

Their eyes meet. The corner of his mouth lifts up. Her own mouth does the same. 

Peeta walks out of the Hob and turns towards town.


	2. Chapter 2

The last slice of fruit and nut bread rattles in his lunch pail. All that’s left of his father’s parting gift. The heavy loaf held an empty apology after informing him that sleeping at the bakery for a few more weeks would not be an option. 

When he reaches the fork in the road between town and the Seam, he joins the ranks shuffling towards the mine. Spirits feel high for the last work day of the week. 

He spots a bunch of his crew ahead and jogs to catch up. 

“Hey Mellark!” Thom greets him warmly.

Gale’s easy smile falls immediately at the sound of his name. “How’s your head?” 

“Fine.” Peeta’s hand runs through his hair. Gale’s abrupt question reminding him that smacking into the low spot in the mine can still hurt even with a helmet on.

There’s an uneasy hush throughout the group as they follow Gale’s slowed pace. “Hangovers are a good way to make mistakes. Heard you were at the bar for hours last night.”

Peeta glances around wondering which among them is reporting his hob habits to Gale. Huckle was on the other end of the bar most of the night himself. “I was at the bar, but I didn’t drink.”

Gale steps directly in front of Peeta. Stopping him in his tracks as the rest of the crew mosey around them. “Don’t lie to me, Mellark. I know Abernathy doesn’t let people linger without lining his pockets. As your foreman, I need to know when I’ve got a liability on the team.”

A liability. The familiar insult stings more than Gale should know. 

Peeta steadies his voice. “You can ask Haymitch yourself. He told me I was welcome to stay, and I’ve been out of coins for two days.” The pay he’ll receive at the end of today’s shift will be the most money he’s ever had to his name. 

There’s a subtle twitch from Gale’s left eye. He stares down at Peeta before giving a curt nod and striding off towards the mine. 

It’s going to be a long day. 

His shoulders burn as he shovels another scoop of coal onto the conveyor belt. Peeta’s been tasked with the job all week. Not that any of the jobs down here are easy, but no one else has been on the shovel for more than one day in a row. Maybe he should have tried harder to befriend the guy now assigning duties. At least attempted some cordial conversation during their terse Sunday trades. 

Gale directs those on ceiling supports, as Thom controls the digger at the tunnel's end. Huckle dumps a careless shovelful onto the belt, kicking excess dust up into Peeta’s face. 

He doesn’t mind the dark. The coal dust isn’t terrible with the protective gear on. Though he’s been surprised how many choose not to wear it. The cool temperatures are a welcome relief from the constant heat of the bakery. 

Another Huck shovelful lands annoyingly close to Peeta. 

The hostility from a select few has been disappointing. Work day hostility he had hoped he was leaving behind. But most of the miners have been welcoming. As long as he pulls his weight, they don’t treat him any differently. 

Peeta rips off his respirator. “Shut it off!”

Thom immediately flips the emergency kill switch. The excavator sputters as the engine slows to a stop.

“What are you doing?” Gale’s bark is just as gruff as it’s been all day. 

“Methane pocket.” 

The crew grumbles and a few reach into their pockets. 

Gale steps closer. His headlamp shining directly into Peeta’s face. “Let me see it.” 

Peeta holds up his detector showing the odorless danger in the air. Any spark could ignite an explosion at this mixture ratio. 

An isolated methane explosion isn’t the biggest problem, it’s the stirred up coal dust those explosions can ignite that can wipe out an entire crew. 

Each miner is issued the personal detectors. They are required to test with the manual device every 5 minutes whenever actively digging. 

Like the haphazardly used respirators, Peeta hasn’t seen much consistency with the gas detectors either. 

Gale shines his light over to the silent alarm hanging on the front of the train cart. “Why isn’t it sounding?” 

Peeta lifts it up and carries it closer to the tunnel’s end. It lets out one shriek before going silent again. The alarm looks like it’s seen better days. And those days could have been a decade ago. 

Gale radios for the vent team and leads the crew up the mine shaft. Everything stops for the hour while the tunnel is cleared. 

The chatter revolves around how necessary this venting really is. Huckle makes an off hand remark that his head is the best detector they’ve got. “If I ain’t dizzy, run the diggy.” 

Peeta busies himself with cleaning up the main alarm. The filter is clogged with dust. Even the enclosed battery compartment has a black layering of the stuff. The rubber gasket is loose inside. 

He can feel Gale’s eyes occasionally watching him but he’s confident enough in what he’s doing. He’s been preparing for life in the mines ever since he understood why those with blonde hair only seem to marry each other. Why the exceptions are so notable. 

There isn’t a mining book in the school building he hasn’t read. The coal instructor probably hated him with how often he’d pepper him with questions. Questions others could ask a father or an older sibling. 

“All set. Good stop call, Hawthorne.” The head supervisor pats Gale on the back before returning to his buggy. “Remember you’ll still need to make quota.” He calls out from the driver’s seat.

There is a collective groan from the crew with a few glares cast in Peeta’s direction. The risk was outside guidelines. But his books didn’t teach him what level of risk his crewmates would be willing to endure to avoid an extra hour tacked onto their shift. 

Gale addresses the disgruntled crew. “Alright let’s get to work. Thom I need you to take over for Mellark.” He turns to Peeta. “You’re shadowing me on the digger.”

Everyone else returns to their earlier posts and Gale pulls Peeta to the side. “You did a good job, Mellark. But there is an order of command for a reason.” The malice from this morning is completely absent in Gale’s tone. “Tell me and I’ll make the call. You’ll make more friends that way.” 

Gale points to the respirator around Peeta’s neck before securing his own back in place. 

_He’s late._

They’re all late. Not one person on the crew has come into the hob. She’d been useless at the bar once an hour passed after the end of day whistle. Haymitch sent her over to Sae’s. One of the last bowls of the day sits cold and barely touched in front of her. 

There haven’t been any sirens. None of the other miners are acting like anything is amiss. Surely someone would have told her something by now. 

Katniss lifts another spoonful and slowly pours it back into the bowl. 

“Why are you over here, Catnip?” Gale’s voice startles her. The coal dust smeared across his face from a haphazard effort to wash it. 

Katniss jumps up from her chair. She gives him a hug but quickly let’s go before he can return it. “Why are you so late?” 

“Took extra time to meet quota.” Gale puzzles at her a moment. Like he’s waiting for something. His eyes narrow when he asks, “How were the lines?” 

“Fine.” She looks around him. A few more from the crew are filing in. They look exhausted.

“Peeta’s fine too.”

The muscles across her shoulders relax. She hadn’t realized how tight she’d been holding them. “Okay.” 

“We need to talk.” 

“Now?” Katniss tries to refocus on her hunting partner but she can’t stop checking the doorway. “Is it important or can it wait ‘til Sunday?” Peeta finally comes into the Hob. Her lungs feel like they can fully fill for the first time in the last hour. 

His hands are stuffed into his pocket, his shoulders slumped. She knew this would happen if he stayed down there. His light is fading. 

There’s a long pause before Gale speaks again. “Yea, Sunday.” He brushes past her, walking away. “What’s one more day?”

Peeta looks across the hob, confusion etching his features until his eyes land on her. He straightens as he approaches but he can’t hide what she’s already recognized. His smile too subdued, his ‘hi’ too quiet. 

She searches his face. “Are you okay?” 

Her concern causes something in his gaze she can’t name. “Yes, just a long day.” 

Katniss pulls out her chair for him to sit. Gesturing to the full bowl of soup on the counter. “Sae’s out but you can have mine, I only took a few bites.”

She hasn’t seen him eat the last two nights. She can only hope he had a portion of the squirrels from her generous trade to the cobblers yesterday morning. 

He doesn’t move so she sits down in the seat beside the one she’s offering. “Please. Take it. I can get something back at the house. Sorry, it’s kind of cold---” 

“No one’s eating cold stew at my stand.” Greasy Sae takes the bowl, dumping the contents back into her caldron. She pokes at the fading embers below. 

Peeta sinks down into the chair. His leg brushes against her own before he adjusts it away. “I can’t eat your dinner.” 

Of all people to refuse food from her. “Put it towards my bread debt.”

“You’re really still talking about that, huh? I thought you agreed to let that go.” Peeta arches a brow, the upturn at the corner of his lips undercuts his playful attempt to scold her. “Let’s see, a rabbit, two squirrels, burn cream, a set of authentic forest paints, and now a bowl of soup. I’m pretty sure I received the best trade the bakery ever made at the rabbit.”

She smiles at the familiar conversation. “Maybe you shouldn’t have kept slipping extras into my bag. And you forgot the paint refills.”

“No, I didn’t. You agreed that wasn’t for the bread.”

Katniss thinks for a moment. “Oh, right. That was your birthday present.” She bumps their knees together. “And it had nothing to do with the cupcake you snuck to Prim.”

Sae places the steaming bowl back down in front of Peeta. Katniss would swear the old woman winks at her. 

Peeta thanks both her and Sae before digging into the meal. “So now that I’m Seam too, do we still have to think of everything as a trade.”

“Yes, that’s part of being Seam.” 

Peeta takes a loud slurp off his spoon. “Then I'm going to trade you something for this soup.”

Katniss sighs. “Alright, not everything.”

He beams at her like he’s won some secret victory. Something catches his attention over his shoulder. “Why aren’t you at the bar?”

_Because you were late._

She looks at what’s caught his eye. Half of the bar’s patrons are turned around facing this direction. Darius waves from his place behind the bar, pouring a beer straight into the bottom of a glass. 

“I wasn’t much help so Haymitch gave me the night off. He’s doing his ‘barkeep for two free drinks’ special.” Haymitch starts fussing at the peacekeeper turned temp barkeep, she can almost hear his improper foam lecture. 

She and Peeta both turn back around. Their audience’s eyes and unasked questions hanging awkwardly between them. 

Katniss flicks at some imaginary dust. “What happened today? In the mine?”

Peeta freezes a beat. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before answering. “We had to stop for a while as a precaution. Hit a gas pocket.” 

“Oh.” A gas pocket. Stated with the same casual air one might discuss a snow flurry. 

Once her breathing evens out, she says, “Maybe you could still accept the betrothal.”

“Katniss,” He says her name with a strange combination of exasperated patience. He drops the spoon into the already empty bowl and turns to fully face her. “that isn’t exactly how things work in town. There were at least two other families vying for the butcher shop. The only reason they held out on me as long as they did is because my parents kept them in bread. But even if I could. Even if I could go crawling back, I wouldn’t. I like where I’m at.” 

Nobody likes the mines. “It’s been one week! And you’re already running into trouble.” 

“No, we followed the standard procedure and everything was fine. Half the crew didn’t think it was even bad enough to stop for.” Peeta’s retort is infuriatingly calm. 

She’s ready to argue when Sae walks up to take the empty bowl. “Honey, why don’t you show this nice young man around his new stomping grounds? I’d take him to the meadow myself but I think he’d prefer your company.”

“Sae.” Katniss hushes through her teeth. 

Peeta laughs. “I’d love to go to the meadow, and you’d certainly be welcome to join us Ms. Sae. It’s especially beautiful out there this time of year.”

“When have you seen the meadow?” Katniss asks. The meadow is on the far end of the Seam. Most merchants stick to the small oak grove on their side of the district. 

“I used to go there to paint if I could get away from the bakery.” He leans in as if to share a secret. “You know, I get more time off working in the mines. Never had a full day before.” 

He leans in a fraction more. “It’s also the first year I won’t be working during the Harvest Festival.”

Sae chuckles, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Katniss and Peeta. 

“Maybe we could talk _alone_ in the meadow for a bit.” Katniss shoots Sae a look. “Did you want to get your paints first?”

“They’re….” Peeta rubs the back of his neck. “I wasn’t allowed to pack. My mother had a bag by the door after graduation. I should have known but I’d thought my dad would at least…. ” 

Katniss’ blood is boiling. She can replace the paints, though it will take her some time. But what about Peeta’s other things that were missing from that bag. “Wait here.” She tells him before rushing over to the stand that will have what she wants. 

She rushes back to him holding out an old pad of paper and a single piece of charcoal. “I’ll make you more paints but at least for now….” Her anger fades to doubt as Peeta gapes up at her. “...so you’ll have something for your day off.”

She glances back towards the bar. The thumbs ups from the Goat man and the wide smiles from the other onlookers only ignite her nerves further. “Peeta, did you still want to go to the meadow?” 

Sae nudges Peeta in the back. 

He stands and clears his throat. “Thank you, Katniss.” Peeta slowly takes the gift in one hand and her hand in the other. All the times they accidentally touched during trades, the small jolt she’d feel whenever it happened, is nothing compared to the sensation of his warm, steady hand enveloping her own. 

All the boldness Sae and his mother’s actions provoked has disappeared. Peeta takes the lead and they walk silently in the fading daylight. 

He’s practically buzzing when they reach the field of blooming wildflowers and tall grass. “Can I sketch you?”

She’s surprised by his request but nods a ‘yes’. 

Peeta starts pacing them in circles, checking both the sky and the ground. It reminds her of Buttercup deciding on the best couch cushion. When she’s standing where he seems to want, he releases her hand. “Just sit like you normally would. However you’re most comfortable.” 

Katniss tries to sit naturally, she doesn’t know what to do with her hands.

Peeta drops down and sits cross legged in front of her. The paper pad in his lap. “How was your day?”

She tells him about her late hunt with Rory. The first batch of summer strawberries. Trade rounds. The brew batch she saved from Haymitch’s sugar and yeast mix up. 

He glides the charcoal across his paper. His arm flexing with each sure stroke. The growing moonlight highlighting his pale long eyelashes every time he looks down. But it also highlights the contrast of the coal smudges against his fair skin. 

“For you.” He flips over the sketch revealing a beautiful girl. She looks almost ethereal in her throne of grass. Backdropped by the moon with flowers weaved down through her dark braid.

Katniss gingerly accepts his outstretched gift. She’s seen his talent before. A few of the paintings he created with her supplies. But she’s never seen herself as his subject matter. “It’s stunning, Peeta. Thank you.” She doesn’t recognize her own breathy voice. 

Peeta looks like he’s about to say something but simply gives her a shy smile instead. 

They wander to the meadow’s edge. She looks over every inch of detail in his drawing. Resisting the temptation to run her fingers over the black lines for fear of ruining the perfection. 

“Can I walk you home?”

His soft question brings her out of her reverie. “No...umm.. that’s okay.” 

“Okay.” If he’s disappointed in her answer, his lopsided grin doesn’t show it. “See you tomorrow, Katniss.” 

“Goodnight, Peeta.”

Neither moves. 

His eyes dance across her face. 

She forces her body to cooperate and walk her home.


End file.
